Soil
by Mystery Hunter
Summary: Inside one of the tents a fire was burning, casting long and distorted shapes on the dark wooden walls, and Marco was staring deep into its heart. The red flames crackled and spat as towers and fortresses were erected within it, only to collapse into the ashes. Celia watched him carefully. "Marco?" He swallowed. "I can't think anymore Celia. My mind is just mute blackness..."


To the New Yorkers, the circus appeared to flicker in and out of sight. With the stripped tents blending in with the dark winter sky and the downy flurries it all seemed to be a mirage or other optical illusion. The only aspect of the circus that remained constant was the fire whose flames cast unusual icy blue shadows on the black and white spires.

Inside one of the tents another fire was burning, casting long and distorted shapes on the dark wooden walls, and Marco was staring deep into its heart. The red flames crackled and spat as towers and fortresses were erected within it, only to collapse into the ashes and be rebuilt into miniature towns and gardens complete with soot soil. Marco watched these creations without blinking, his hands griping the arms of his worn maroon armchair, the bottle of imported France red wine sitting forgotten on the circular wooden table to his right.

A sigh as soft as a spring breeze escaped his lips and he rubbed his eyes, crumpling in on himself. He rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. For a moment the lamps and lanterns around him flickered and sent him into darkness.

"Celia…"

"Marco?"

He looked over to see his wife rise from a deep purple and gold settee, the hem of her red and white dress sweeping the ground. As she padded over to him he noticed the creases in her forehead sculpted by her frown and he felt a painful pang in his heart.

"Celia."

He held a hand out to her, which she took, and he pulled her closer. She sat herself on his knees and the colours of her dress swirled until they came to match the brown of his jacket and the cream of his shirt. He softly kissed her hand, then took it and the other and held them.

"Is everything alright?" Celia asked. "You've been lost to the world since we returned from dinner."

"I can't think anymore Celia." He adverted his eyes, his gaze settling on the empty mirror above the mantel. "My mind is just mute blackness."

"Well what is there to think about?"

"The circus. Bailey running the circus. Tents in the circus. New tents…" He shook his head. "But I can't think about any of it. Silence replaces my own voice and any images collapse within themselves."

Celia was quiet as she observed their twisted hands. "Come." She stood from his lap and looked down at the top of his dark head. "Let's go for a walk. It's a lovely night out." She gave him a soft smile but he didn't see it. He simply stood, his hands still holding hers, then raised them and gave them a kiss. "Let me just get my umbrella."

Within minutes they were walking down West 50th Street, hand in hand with Marco's large black umbrella over them. All around them snow fell, purifying the grey pavement with its crispness and dusting the shoulders of those hurrying to their destinations. Celia's and Marco's shoulder's remained free of the white powder though, but the hem of Celia's now white dress only became whiter as it moved through the snow on the ground and Marco's black shoes soon became the colour of salt and pepper.

"Is it helping?" Celia asked, turning to her love.

"All the white is surely a reprieve from the black." He squeezed her hand and looked over at her. "Thank you."

"There's no need to thank me." She smiled softly and then looked down the street when the sound of bells and soft music floated through the air towards them. Walking ahead, out from under the umbrella, Celia led Marco towards the almost hypnotizing sounds. After a block they reached a large white ice-skating rink complete with skating patrons. Celia broke into a smile and stepped up to the boards that ran their way around the rink. "This is perfect."

"For what?" Marco asked, coming to stand beside her. He held the umbrella over her but she moved out from under its protection.

"To rid your mind of its silent void." Her smile grew. "This is perfect." She started to walk away from him towards the entrance to the rink, her dress changing colours and patterns yet again until it became a fully white gown with light grey and blue crisscrosses. It resembled the rink so well that it was almost as if she had pulled the ice up and wrapped herself in it. Marco gathered his umbrella and hurried to catch up to her.

Soon they were skating across the rink, hand in hand, a warmth emitting from their palms that kept them from freezing in the cold air that caressed their faces and made Celia's hair catch flight. Marco devoured their surroundings with his senses: the ice shavings scattered about the ground, the shnick-shnick of the skating blades, the glow from the hundreds of lights that twinkled down like so many colourful stars from the voluminous Christmas tree. His eyes shone with a light that they hadn't held in weeks, and the blackness in his mind fell away like old curtains.

When they returned to their tent, their feet and hands cold, their shoulders and hair sprinkled with powder, Marco quickly headed into the area sectioned off as his office. There was a spring in step that wasn't just amounted to the fact that he could walk normally again, and the snow that fell from his body turned to glitter before it hit the floor.

Within the hour calculated by one of Herr Thiessen's clocks, the one with the white doves and black ravens and red playing cards decorated with silver stars, Marco filled an entire notebook. There was ink under his nails as though he had just dug into fresh soil and paper cuts were healing on his fingers even as he closed the back cover of the book and leaned back in his large carved chair. The birds sitting on the branches of the tree on the front cover stared up at him with their deep eyes and he felt a zing rush through his bloodstream. He looked up to see Celia standing in the doorway, a silver robe wrapped around her body with her hair loose on her shoulders. His smile invited her in and she came to sit on his knees like she had several hours before.

"Better?" she asked.

"Much." He kissed her then, and they were transported to an ice garden complete with downy soil.


End file.
